


Five Times

by stitchcasual



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, and the fall of overwatch, but neither is canon, featuring such fun times as, i am not nice to gabriel reyes, just post-omnic crisis, major character death because canon, the omnic crisis, the title might sound cute but it's a bundle of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchcasual/pseuds/stitchcasual
Summary: Five Times Gabriel Reyes Held Jack Morrison's Handaka the fic that sounds like it should be cute but will actually make you cry





	Five Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiny_owlbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_owlbear/gifts), [NothingAlarming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingAlarming/gifts).



> dedicated with love and evil cackling to the two influences who dragged me into this hell. Now I get to torment you endlessly; this is all your fault.

**1.**

The first time Gabriel Reyes held Jack Morrison’s hand it was an accident. If you ask him where they were when it happened, he’ll tell you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. If you instead ask him about the first time he was truly scared in his life, he’ll tell you it was somewhere in France and that the French have stupid names for places so he never bothered to learn the name of the town. They were stationed there early in the crisis, sent in to do some recon, and it went sideways because _of course_ it did. The omnics caught wind of their presence, either through one small, careless action on their part or through some mal-intentioned human passing intel on their location along to the bots. Gabe never could figure it out. And at the time it really didn’t matter how they were made, just that they were, and that he and Jack were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, behind a giant armoire in the abandoned house they’d been using as their base of operations for the last week. Stupid, probably, to stay so long in one place, but they couldn’t do anything about it as the Bastion units patrolled outside the door.

They were there behind that dresser for the better part of two days, hardly daring to sneak sips of water from their canteens for fear of the omnics’ movement sensing capabilities. They took turns napping, hooking elbows to keep from falling over. And then it seemed like the omnics had given up. They couldn’t hear the clanking footfalls of the Bastions; the street outside had fallen silent. They stayed behind the armoire for three more hours, not wanting to risk it. Night fell. Gabe looked at Jack and Jack looked at Gabe and Gabe shrugged and tried to grin. Jack just gripped his pulse rifle a little tighter in his right hand and inched over toward the edge of the armoire. That’s when Gabe heard it. Not the thunderous step of a Bastion but the soft whirring of a humanoid model, close, so close it had to be inside the house, in the room with them.

Gabe’s hand flashed out to the side and grabbed Jack’s, not pulling him back but not letting him move any farther. Any movement now could be the end. His traitor heart kept hammering so loud it had to be audible to the omnic on the other side of their too-small wooden shield. Jack froze, his eyes widening when he heard the noise of the robot’s servos. His hand tightened just that much more on Gabe’s, and they stood there, muscles cramping, not breathing, until the house was silent again. Then they ran, Jack calling in the extraction as they flew down alleys and Gabe covered their escape with bright flashes of his shotguns.

They collapsed into the chopper that came to get them and looked out opposite windows for the ride back to Switzerland when they finally dragged themselves into seats. Neither of them spoke about it, except to debrief on their return.

  


**2.**

The second time Gabriel Reyes held Jack Morrison’s hand the eyes of the world were on them. The crisis was over; they were heroes. Some of them more than others, it would appear, golden Indiana Jack raised to a position higher than the rest of them, but that was just as well. Jack would look better in the spotlight with his pale hair and unscarred face still radiating a youthful innocence Gabe had left behind long ago. He didn’t begrudge Jack the job: someone had to handle the governments and the politicians who all believed they were entitled to direct how and where and why Overwatch operated during peacetime.

And someone had to stay in the shadows and make sure shit still got done. They all had their parts to play.

They’d been informed of their new positions a week ago, had already begun filling the roles and their rosters with the best and brightest who were all too eager to join Overwatch’s ranks. Or Jack had, anyway. Gabriel, by necessity, couldn’t solicit resumes and hold open interviews. Blackwatch didn’t exist. He’d always had his own way of scouting for talent though, had sniped a few senior Overwatch agents from Jack while he was busy looking at the new kids. He’d led his small team on a mission three days later, snuffing out a pocket of omnics near headquarters before their plans to disrupt the ceremony came to fruition. Jack didn’t know. Gabe didn’t tell him.

There was paperwork on his desk for two more ops that weren’t as time sensitive, and he’d caught wind of another situation he wanted to address. But the world was at peace. That was what the vids said. And it was up to him to make sure everyone still believed that a month, a year, a decade from now. The war might be over, but there were still battles to fight. And now, they were just Gabe’s battles, not _their_ battles, crises he would have to handle by himself without involving Jack because _Blackwach didn’t exist_. Jack knew, had been briefed with Gabe on the directions they would be going when their assignments had been handed down, but he’d been excused from the room before the full details of Gabe’s command had been discussed. It would be better this way, Gabe told himself. Jack had enough to worry about now.

Gabriel watched as the Secretary General of the UN presented Jack with a medal, a symbol of the world’s gratitude to Overwatch, watched Jack’s fingers twitch behind the podium as he gave the speech he’d rehearsed ad nauseam while pacing in Gabe’s room the night before, watched Jack ascend and become more than a man, more than Gabe could ever hope to be even if he were allowed to try. Even as he stood to join Jack at the podium when the cue came, with Ana, Torbjӧrn, and Reinhardt flanking them, he felt a vast distance stretching between them. Even as Jack’s hand swiveled and nudged at his, hidden behind the wooden stand in front of them, even as he fit his fingers between Jack’s, he felt so far away.

  


**3.**

The third time Gabriel Reyes held Jack Morrison's hand it was the worst day of his life so far. He had received the mission report, delivered by a junior agent, hesitant, halting, uncertain if she should be speaking directly to the Commander like that. He’d dismissed the agent afterward and finished his paperwork, taking his time to make sure he did it fucking right, to show the agents who casually strolled by his door and glanced inside that there was nothing to worry about. He’d waited until the dead of night when only the cleaning crew was active down the south corridor and any agents not currently out on missions would either be asleep or amusing themselves in the rec hall. Then and only then did he allow himself to stack the pages he’d finished hours ago and walk slowly to the hospital wing.

The cameras would see him but that would be fine. He trusted the people who watched the feeds to keep their fool mouths shut. Gabe keyed himself in to the medical facilities and swept his gaze around the empty space. He’d never minded the eerie quiet of the sterile environment before, the lack of buzz after most of the patients had left and the medical staff were bunked down for the night. But now? He flexed his fingers, pressing his lips tight together.

Overnight patients had their own rooms, as did the staff, but Gabe avoided those places and skirted around the edges of the facility to the intensive care unit in the back corner. He keyed in again but froze as the door slid open, only just slipping in as it closed, his eyes fixed on the body closest to the door.

Three of the unit were in here, the agent he’d debriefed had told him. Three of the more senior agents that had been sent. Gabriel had already known. He’d known someone would be in here the moment comms went down during the op, had yelled and cursed himself nearly hoarse getting a tech to find a way to get them back up and running, hadn’t needed that in the end because Montgomery was a goddamn miracle-maker who managed to get the battered and wounded unit loaded onto the plane, a distress call sent, and the autopilot set before passing out from blood loss in the pilot’s chair. Gabe had made sure there was a large medical team standing by when the plane landed, had watched on the cameras as the bodies were wheeled off, had made his headcount of the casualties. Had grit his teeth and stalked back to his office instead of barrelling down to the hospital immediately like he wanted.

All three agents were in a medically induced sleep, the better for them to heal and for the doctors to operate if necessary. And it had been necessary. Montgomery would lose their eye, it looked like; Torres would be in physical therapy for months before he’d have full use of his legs again; and McCree… Gabe set his jaw as his eyes darted from the IV bags strung to the kid’s right side over to the bandaged stump on his left. Such pristine white bandages. Had they cauterized it? Would Jesse ever have feeling in that arm like he used to? Would he live without one arm or would he accept a prosthetic? Would his adjustment period be as dramatic as Genji’s had been, if so? Gabe forced himself to stare at it, at the part of Jesse they couldn’t bring home because of an op _he_ sent him on.

He didn’t move from just inside the door until he heard someone keying in the lock behind him, and then he took one step to the side, closer to the rest of his men, just a bit farther from Jesse but to a better view of what was left of his arm. Jack fell in beside him without a word, just a touch on the shoulder before his hands dropped to his sides. What could be said, after all?

After another minute, Gabriel stepped closer to Jesse’s side, Jack moving fluidly with him as he had when they’d fought together in the war. And for a moment he forgot what had been lost between them and how many years had past, and he reached for Jack’s hand, wrapping his fingers around Jack’s smooth, strong palm. He ground his teeth, the sound inside his skull anchoring him to the present moment, but he didn’t let go of Jack. He didn’t look at Jack either, kept his eyes firmly fixed on Jesse or Torres or Montgomery, but mostly Jesse, until his internal clock told him an hour had passed and the night nurses would be making their rounds soon. Then he dropped Jack’s hand and walked out of the hospital wing without looking back.  


 

**4.**

The fourth time Gabriel Reyes held Jack Morrison’s hand no one said a word. Fareeha sobbed into Jesse’s shoulder. Reinhardt had taken up position to her other side, one giant arm wrapped around both kids, his gentle face a pained rictus. Gabe wished someone had thought to shut up the birds and dim the sun, but no one had, so the sun shone, the birds chirped, and the world kept on spinning without Ana Amari, beloved mother and protector. It’s what they’d carved into her tombstone, the one to rest above her nearly empty grave because there had been no body to recover by the time Jack scrambled Blackwatch for cleanup operations on his way to safety.

Gabe had to look at the pool of Ana’s blood. The shattered bits of her rifle scattered on the floor. He sent Jesse away to oversee operations on the ground, recovering the bodies of the men Jack had been forced to leave behind to get the hostages to safety. The kid had pursed his lips and chewed on his cigar, but he did as he was told with a minimum of growling and pointing by Gabe. _Old soldiers are hard to kill,_ Ana had always told him. He supposed he’d believed her to be invincible instead. He’d bent to his knees and bleached the ground himself, gathering all the pieces of her rifle to bring home to Fareeha.

She’d thanked him for bringing her at least a small part of her mother, hugging the box that contained the shards to her chest. Over the next few days, Fareeha had held her vigil over the rifle, cleaning it as she would have a body. It rested in the grave before them.

Jack had his Strike Commander face on, implacable and unmoving, calm strength radiating from him for others to cling to. With his right hand he reached out to them, clasping shoulders and shaking hands as members of Overwatch filed past to pay their respects. But Gabe could feel the tension in Jack’s left hand, the one firmly in his grip. They had reached for each other by silent accord when they’d arrived at the graveside, and neither had let go since. He squeezed a little tighter and after a moment, Jack squeezed back, and they kept up their guard duty, funnelling most of the well-wishers away to spare Fareeha. Reinhardt and Jesse swept her back home as the afternoon sun got hazy, staying with her overnight so she wouldn’t be alone. Jesse had mentioned something about singing cartoons when he spoke to Gabe before the funeral.

Jack and Gabe stood side by side, hand in hand, staring at the piece of ground that held nothing of their partner until the sun began to set. Then Gabe turned from the grave, pulling Jack with him.

  


**5.**

The fifth time Gabriel Reyes held Jack Morrison’s hand they were dying. If Gabe was honest with himself, he’d admit that he’d been dying for a long time and had come to terms with it, but he’d never made his peace with Jack dying too. The Soldier Enhancement Program had done a lot to both of them, had changed them in ways no one could have foreseen. Jack got _better_ , became the golden boy the world needed for its symbol of hope and stability. And you never want to watch your heroes die.

But where Jack’s humanity was augmented, polished, Gabe’s was reduced, depressed. He left SEP a monster masquerading in a human skin. It’s only ever a matter of time before the hero defeats the monster, Gabriel knew this and accepted it. But the monster isn’t supposed to take the hero with him when he goes.

He reached across the rubble, over broken concrete and bent rebar, groping blindly for the man he knew was there. Blood cascaded into his eyes from some gash on his head. All of his limbs felt heavy, like dead weights attached to his torso, dragging him down into the mud and dirt where he belonged. The several tons of building on top of him certainly helped in that endeavor. Jack was somewhere _up,_ though, and Gabe kept reaching, kept stretching toward him. A fool’s hope, perhaps, to keep trying. The last bit of hubris left, to believe he could still touch something that high.

His fingers scraped something, hard to feel through his gloves, and it moved. He dared to hope. Whatever it was twitched and moved again, and he looped two fingers around it, grabbing hold with his thumb. It felt like fingers. Gabe had to believe they were Jack’s fingers; there was nothing else to believe in.

The fingers spasmed in his grip, loosening then tightening uncomfortably, and Gabriel screamed, though the sound barely carried past his own ears. Something in his hand must have been broken during the fight or when the building collapsed. He hadn’t noticed. What was a small hand bone compared to his ribcage or pelvis or legs, after all? And surely it was his just desserts to be in pain until the very end, though he still couldn’t find it in him to regret what he’d done.

Except Jack. He regretted Jack.

The fingers in his grip relaxed enough that the pain in Gabe’s hand subsided to a dull throbbing, but they didn’t let go. He tried to pull his body forward, to reach farther, find the hand that belonged to the fingers, but he couldn’t do it trapped as he was. So he just held on as best he could, held on through the rattling coughs that drove spikes of white hot agony through his chest, held on through the numbness that crept slowly up his body.

He held on long after the fingers in his grip went limp until his own reserves wavered and buckled and he pitched forward into the jaws of hell.

 

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to NothingAlarming for giving me the idea for Jesse in the hospital in the first place---you're the real MVP
> 
> this was all posted piece by piece to my [tumblr,](http://stitchcasual.tumblr.com) where I reblog stupid shit and will likely end up writing more things in the future

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Five Times (podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708456) by [stitchcasual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchcasual/pseuds/stitchcasual)




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